


Forge

by quietcactus



Series: Sun and Shadow [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Character Study, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2016-10-10
Packaged: 2018-08-20 14:09:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8251979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quietcactus/pseuds/quietcactus
Summary: “So you have a glass heart,” Noya agreed. “Lean into it. You’d be amazed at what you can see when someone’s heart is so clear.”





	

Asahi worried that his fear would consume him one day.

There were moments, more often than not, that he wished he could lay blame to one trigger for his anxiety. Spiders, the dentist, his father’s disapproval. Instead, what was most exhausting was the absolute certainty that under the right circumstances, anything could bring him grief. He actually studied pretty hard, but his grades were still mediocre and clearly that meant he wasn’t smart and would never go college. He tried to help that one girl on the train who dropped her books, but she recoiled from him, clearly assuming he was about to harass her.

He put his heart into the match against Dateko, but clearly he was the reason their team lost.

In a shaded world where everything was a potential threat, very few beacons existed to shed light on where he could go. His mother was one of those beacons. Volleyball was another, one which showed him how he could become someone else, someone braver. But Asahi tended to be most comfortable in shadow, out of immediate sight. And yet, for all that he found his niche in the dark, he so desperately envied those in the light. It was a conflicting feeling, both wanting to be seen and hoping no one saw you. He wanted others to believe he was great, that he was needed and loved, but he didn’t quite believe it when such affirmations were granted—they were just being nice. Asahi wanted to step out of the shadows, but he was held back by someone who told him it wasn’t worth the pain of inevitable rejection.

That someone, of course, was Azumane Asahi.

Asahi had a hell of a critic that lived with him. He couldn’t remember when he moved in. All he knew was this critic was a persistent companion he never asked for. When he was younger, Asahi was just known as “the worrier.” While his friends were jumping into the river to catch frogs, Asahi toed the water, wondering what his father would think if he came back grass stained and muddy. When some boy from his class bragged to onlookers about faking sick to read manga all day, Asahi realized it had never occurred to him to lie _or_ skip school.

If adults were being generous, they would praise him for his prudence and obedience. But in not-so-hushed tones, when it was late and he was supposed to be asleep, these same adults would lament his lack of spine and ambition.

Years ago, Asahi had woken up one night groggy and thirsty. He knew his parents were hosting guests and he didn’t want to disturb them. He crept into the kitchen, easily reaching for a glass even at his age. He heard faint laughter and music playing softly. Asahi thought wistfully of how happy everyone seemed, how easy it must be to be an adult. He didn’t want to disturb them. He turned to leave when two voices rose in volume startlingly close to him. One voice was his father’s. Asahi sucked in a quick breath and leaned into the wall, hoping if he didn’t move he wouldn’t be seen. But what his father and this other man said, conversation cutting in and out, was something Asahi wished could be unheard. If he were honest, when Asahi thought back to this night he would realize that a fair bit of alcohol was involved. If he were _really_ honest, Asahi would admit he was afraid his father saw him for what he really was. 

_If he were studying more, it wouldn’t be so strange that he’s by himself all the time._

_Some kids aren’t meant to go to college._

_It’s a shame that he’ll never amount to anything_.

When pressed, Asahi wasn’t comfortable saying the critic had an eerily similar voice to his father’s. By this point, the critic was so deeply entangled with his sense of self that it just _was_.

Where the critic went, anxiety followed.

***

When Asahi had left the team, it wasn’t relief he felt. _This is for the best_ was his new mantra.

Back into the shadows he went. 

Life moved on, but Asahi found that he had become a different kind of invisible. Before, when he had his friends and the team always around, he was genuinely content to sit back and let others take over. But now, it felt stark and empty.

Being alone is different than being lonely.

The rational part of him knew that if he walked back into the gym that very day, the worst that would happen was Suga teasing him. He _knew_ this. And yet…and yet.

During that match against Dateko, Asahi may have been the sword futilely bashing against an iron wall, but he at least had receivers like Noya at his back, giving him just one more chance to strike again. He knew deep down which fear was keeping him from going back to the team. He could picture it clearly.

The setting: Karasuno against some faceless opponent, the other team at match point. _To the left!_ Asahi would be roaring, setting to sprint again, heaving himself against gravity to swing until he fucking broke that wall of hands. But the attack would fail, the ball careening back to their side. Game over. Asahi would turn to look back at his team and all he would see was Noya. But Noya wouldn’t look crushed or even disappointed.

He would look resigned like failure was expected, a fixture in place.

The one thing Asahi had going for him was his strength and thus ability to be a formidable offensive weapon. But now he was afraid he’d become a sword fallen into disrepair, rusted and dull.

Who would want that?

***

Asahi felt it was appropriate the beacon that first shone him a way back to the team was a passionate first year with hair like fire.

Since the start of this year, Asahi saw his team become a true force with which to be reckoned. He so admired these young new first years: a genius setter, an earnest decoy, a caustic but clever blocker, and a surprisingly bold pinch server. Asahi wondered if his senpai years ago ever looked at his own cohort with such hope.

He couldn’t quite believe it, but volleyball had become _fun_ again. He started to reconnect with Daichi and Suga—both of whom, to be fair, never left, but Asahi had kept his distance. Tanaka was as brash but delightful as always.

And then there was Noya.

Oh to be seen and not seen. Noya’s endless faith and enthusiasm were compelling. He was such a foil to Asahi’s own reticent nature. When Asahi first met Noya, he was honestly a bit intimidated by the younger boy’s energy.

_“You’re our ace, right, Asahi-senpai?” Noya chirped at him, still in the early days of his arrival on the team._

_“W-what makes you think that?”  Asahi asked, genuinely wondering._

_Noya’s eyebrows quirked, looking surprised. “It’s obvious, isn’t it? You go in like_ whoosh _and then up like_ whaa _and then_ bam _and the other guys’re left blinking. Sometimes I wish I could spike, except receiving’s the best.” Noya’s hands are wildly gesticulating, drawing him a picture more with his body than words._

_Asahi flushed a little, feeling a bit pleased despite himself._

_“I do the best I can, just like everyone else on the team. You’re amazing, too, Nishinoya! Spikers couldn’t do what they do without receivers such as yourself.”_

_Noya stopped fluttering. He looked up at him with amber-sharp eyes, his face inscrutable._

_“We’re gonna go places, Asahi-senpai.”_

And go places they did.

Asahi could more readily admit these days what value he brought to Karasuno’s volleyball team. He was a weapon, an offensive strike. He could cut through almost any block and receiving his strikes could blossom blood into bruises.

But Noya was a blacksmith. He never attacked, never could. Asahi’s sword chipped and bent against relentless blows against Dateko’s iron wall. But it was Noya who kept the hearth crackling with flame to repair that which had seen better days.

Asahi had become folded steel, melted and hammered until he shone with potential and threat. Kageyama was the warrior who wielded all these bladed weapons. And Noya, steadfast and fierce, was the molten core which gave them all one more chance to swing.

***

They were practicing, this time against the Neighborhood Association Team, just to help mix things up. Asahi was working on his timing. He’d seen how others had seemed to slow time up top, forcing blockers to already be on the descent when the spiker swung.

Needless to say, it’s a work in progress.

To the left. Again. _Again_. Asahi kept calling for the ball. He’d get it the next time. For Asahi, pummeling the ball was a brief respite from the track playing in his head, a broken record. It was a sad song crooning to not get his hopes up, to not expect anything so as to never be disappointed. Stupid damn critic.

Asahi felt _strong._ He could actually revel in what others feared or despised in him, his body and strength and “wildness.” Asahi could tell before the ball hit the court that this one would connect where no hands could stop it. When he landed, he pumped his fist, corded muscle in his arm flexing. This time, when Asahi turned back to Noya—always Noya—it wasn’t boredom he saw.

Noya just grinned all nonchalant, like success was a given.

Asahi felt high and in that moment could only see Noya, the one whose approval meant most. Fuck, it was like staring into the sun. Asahi wondered if he touched Noya in that moment if his confidence would seep past his skin and soak his bones in warmth. Later he would contemplate who else made him feel like this, but he’d struggled to get past Noya.

Being around Noya, to have someone with such unwavering faith in him, was intoxicating. _Noya_ was intoxicating. He knew he was staring too long, Noya already moving on to something else.

“Asahiiii,” Suga trilled, draping over him from behind. “Get your head out of the clouds.”

“They’re not up in the clouds,” Asahi mumbled a little petulantly, his shoulders twitching.

“Oh that’s right. Where you’re looking is a bit…further _down_ ,” his fair-headed friend replied and just whisked away as if nothing happened.

Asahi jerked his head around, wondering if Suga actually said that or if it were his own thoughts. _Just in case you can read my mind, Suga, get out!_ Asahi willed, just in case. Asahi opened his mouth to respond, but then clicked it shut, unsure of how to respond. In a rush, sound came back to him, squeaking sneakers and the chorus of teammates all talking at the same time.

Asahi’s focus was a little shot for the rest of practice—which Ukai didn’t fail to notice—but Asahi couldn’t bring himself to care that much. As the team cleaned up, he was winching the net.  His gaze kept tracking to Noya, who was competing with Tanaka to load balls while Ennoshita sighed from a distance. Noya had such a presence about him with his infectious laughter.

It made Asahi wonder what it was like, when Noya was no longer laughing but unerringly waiting for a serve, to have that sharp look upon you as if you were the only thing worth watching. Asahi felt his cheeks redden at the thought. As if everyone on the team could secretly read his mind, Noya turned to look straight at him through the net, eyes impossibly large and aware.

 In that very moment Asahi couldn’t breathe. He felt his stomach clench in a way that usually spoke of anxiety, but he was also old enough to know that this was more like anticipation. He couldn’t turn his eyes away, though he desperately wished he could. Asahi was an embarrassingly open book sometimes. Noya must be reading everything on his face.

_Oh sweet god I’m attracted to Noya_.

Now his palms were getting sweaty. He wrenched his eyes away, fumbling with now folding the loosened net. _I don’t need this_ , Asahi moaned to himself, _everything about me is already too weird. The last thing I want is to like my friend and everyone will just somehow know and then he’ll pity me because of course and then maybe I should just leave the team again_.

Why _hello_ , said the critic.

Suga seemed to already suspect, which meant the sharper gazes of teammates like Ennoshita and Tsukishima weren’t far behind. _Make it to the club room_ , he told himself, _then just get the fuck out of here_.

Asahi was too aware of his body, the volume of others’ voices, was everyone watching him right now? Get through the door, up the stairs, don’t think just walk. He really hoped his restless behavior would look more normal than suspicious. The sun was beginning to set, casting the world in hues of peach and violet. He stopped momentarily to take a steadying breath, felt a bit of cooler air in his lungs. He tipped his head back to stare sightless at the clouds above. He tried to focus on his burning throat rather than burning cheeks.

Once in the club room, he pulled his sweat-soaked shirt over his head when the other boys started trickling in. In his haste, Asahi’s shirt snagged on his bun and tugged it loose. Asahi sighed and pull the rest of his hair loose, rubbing a hand through it to unsnarl tangles.

Daichi and Suga wandered in last. “Asahi, my mom’s wondering if you want to come over for dinner tonight. Suga’s in,” Daichi called from across the room.

Asahi twisted a bit to look at him, arms still stuck in his shirt, feeling his obliques twinge in protest at the movement.

“I’ll have to call home first, but that sounds nice. Thank you!” Asahi returned. Maybe no one noticed anything odd about him.

But before he can face the wall to change, he caught Noya looking in his direction. Asahi blinked, a little surprised, wondering for a second if Noya’s looking at something behind him. He quickly turned back around, looking for whatever Noya must be watching. Huh. Nothing to see here. Asahi risked a glance over his shoulder, but Noya was already gone. His chest felt a little tight, though it’s not as if he would have stopped him from leaving.

Asahi tried dragging on a clean shirt but instead shrieked when Noya popped up in his vision to the other side.

Asahi blanched. “Noya please don’t do that!”

Noya had his tell-tale smirk on his face. He leaned against the cubby, arms crossed. “Yeah, sorry, don’t want to worry those precious nerves of yours.”

Asahi wanted to make a witty reply, something impressive, but he’s caught flatfooted and just _hmphs_ at Noya, shaking out that clean shirt he still hasn’t put on. “Yes, me and my glass heart. How I ever get out of bed in the morning is beyond me.”

But Noya didn’t chuckle. He instead placed a surprisingly rough hang on Asahi’s forearm. Heat radiated from Noya’s palm, but it froze Asahi in place. He felt the hair rise on his arms.

“So you have a glass heart,” Noya agreed. “Lean into it. You’d be amazed at what you can see when someone’s heart is so clear.”

Noya looked as if he wanted to say more, but instead lowered his eyes to where his hand was still resting. A shuddering inhale. Asahi couldn’t _breathe_. He wanted to place his own hand on top of Noya’s but couldn’t explain it if it he did. Noya’s eyes had a dark limbal ring, highlighting how impossibly gold they glowed. _He’s the sun and I’m flying too close._

“I’ll let you finished getting dressed. Have fun at Daichi’s,” Noya broke the silence. He took a step back, hand dropping, but Asahi didn’t quite miss the way his eyes did a sweep of his shirtless torso. Asahi’s not sure if Noya liked what he saw.

Noya whirled around and seamlessly inserted himself into a conversation with the other second years, leaving Asahi feeling dazed and a little blinded.

When his heart stopped beating so fast, Asahi’s thoughts began to reorder themselves. His mind could so readily retreat to darkened corners, the critic sliding over him like an oily mantle. But when Asahi was with Noya, he noticed the critic became more of his own shadow than the world itself. The critic could never quiet leave the way a shadow will always creep up on you in certain light. But when it’s bright and his face is turned to Noya, to the sun, nothing else seemed to matter. Asahi couldn’t imagine Noya would ever feel the same about him. But with a year left of high school and not much to lose (but his dignity, ha), Asahi wondered if there was a way to show Noya how much he mean to him.

Asahi may be a sword of twilight, but he knew he shone brightest with the rising sun.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for taking time to read this!


End file.
